Hard as Nails
by Scarlet Secret
Summary: A complete AU about the consequences of Voldemort's triumphing. Three women are kept captive and thier fates are anything but certain.
1. Hard as Nails

1. Hard as Nails

Hermione had thought herself, rather arrogantly, to be the most important woman on the good side of the fight. An equivalent to Bellatrix in terms of importance to the leader of the cause. Hence why it surprised her greatly after Voldemort's success that she ended up spending her life with two other woman. Who were apparently just as important.

She had been in the dungeon of Malfoy Manor for what she assumed was several weeks before the doors were thrown open and Minerva McGonagall was thrust into the cell forcibly.

Hermione knew better than to antagonise their captors so didn't move when her old Professor fell to the floor with a slight crack, however the moment the doors were closed she shot to McGonagall's side. As it turned out she had splintered a bone in her arm but there was nothing either of them could do without their wands except use strips of cloth from Hermione's cloak to tie the arm into position and hope it healed properly.

For another week they sat in their cell lamenting the loss of their wands, the loss of the light side and the disappearance of Harry. The two of them were quite surprised at how well they were treated by their captors. Given that they were being held by the Malfoy's, and by proxy of that Bellatrix Lestrange, they expected nothing short of torture and were strangely concerned when nothing of this sort happened.

Was something worse being planned? Had they been forgotten about?

The second option they could believe quite easily if it were not for the fact they were yet to starve to death.

At the end of this week the cell door swung open again and the two prisoners were shocked to see Rita Skeeter shoved into the cell, garish robes and all.

"I tell you I won't do it! You can keep me in here as long as you like I won't get involved you miserable bastard!"

Hermione waited for the cell door to swing shut before speaking in her increasingly croaky voice.

"Why are you - ?"

Rita didn't turn to her and, impressively, didn't seem remotely phased to have found a girl she used to detest and the Hogwarts Headmistress in the dungeon.

"I wouldn't write propaganda for them."

"Why would they need it now?"

"Come on Professor. A simpleton could work it out. They have won the war but there is still the Resistance. They want as much docility as possible in the Wizarding world."

"And your help to do it?"

Finally she turned; Hermione saw the bruise on her face and that two of her seemingly indestructible fingernails on her left hand were broken. For the first time since having been a prisoner Hermione felt hope seep away.

The weeks continued. More fingernails snapped and one dropped off – the glue wore away and Rita acknowledged the overall fake-ness of her appearance. She had no choice really. Her curls began to drop rapidly, her eyebrows grew back in and a few gems even fell off her glasses. Hermione would have found it amusing under other circumstances but Rita seemed in such a state of depression that she could not bear to make it worse.

McGonagall's arm never did heal properly but it healed enough for her to be able to use it again. Not that there was much she could do with it. Not even a book to hold. As a result Minerva spent most days with her arms holding Rita or Hermione as they cried quietly into her shirt. The Headmistress herself seemed granite like in her emotions and was using all forty years of her teaching experience to maintain her composure.

Hermione grew used to both of them and began to learn that there was no longer anything they were unable to say to one another. Once they had been there a month it was inevitable that Hermione was forced to tear off strips of her clothing to use as rags and she was quite bemused to find Rita doing the same thing and, on seeing Hermione's look, protesting that she wasn't that old.

With an amused smile Minerva had offered to tear up her cloak as she did have more articles of clothing than either of them and had no need of the rags herself. They had glared at the last statement good-naturedly, but objected strongly, largely due to practicality. It was the only thing resembling a blanket and the only thing that could cover all three of them and as such it needed to remain intact. When they curled together under the Emerald trimming they found some comfort in each other.

After two months Rita's last fingernail broke. Minerva was asleep, having nursed Hermione through the night and when the girl in question saw the shattered red plastic she burst into tears.

Rita herself was at a complete loss about how to deal with the emotional girl. Such close proximity for so long had stopped them from being antagonistic to each other but Minerva dealt with the emotional side of things. With a little hesitation at whether she would be accepted Rita gathered the girl into her arms and quickly became aware that her sobs were creating a damp patch on her otherwise filthy robes.

Rita moved them both until they were next to Minerva on the floor and they fell asleep there. Hours later Hermione awoke, still in the arms of Rita Skeeter and listening to Minerva McGonagall's heavy breathing (she apparently had damp on her chest) and she noticed the reporters fingernails again. There was no red varnish but several of them had grown out well past the end of the finger.

Somehow, this gave her hope again.


	2. Sherry

2. Sherry

Hermione and Minerva's death had both been covered up, hence why they knew that nobody would come looking for them. Rita's disappearance had been noted but not investigated. Harry, or whomever was now leading the Resistance, obviously saw no need to find her, a slight pitfall of nobody liking you, Rita supposed.

Except for Bellatrix. She liked her, but that was really quite spectacularly unhelpful right now.

Hermione herself had been captured by Bellatrix, who had performed a complicated piece of magic on a random body, making it resemble Hermione perfectly. Hermione had hoped that whoever found the body would have the foresight and intelligence to ensure the body was hers. As nobody had come she had to deduce that Harry or Ron had found the fake her. They never really did have the sense to think properly.

Hermione knew this was somewhat irrational. They grief would cloud their judgement, but anyway, who on earth would think it wasn't her?

Minerva's death had been slightly more suspect, but nobody had thought to query it. Except, apparently, Rita Skeeter. Hence why she had not been at all surprised to find them both alive and kicking, although she was amazed she was considered as important as they were.

She distinctly remembered the "death" of Minerva McGonagall though. Strange circumstances. Potter had barged into the Headmistresses office to discover the body of Sybill Trelawney slumped over the desk and it had not taken him long to discover she was dead. Sprinting around the remainder of the school he had discovered that several of the other teachers were dead and the only one unaccounted for was Minerva. The Order, and indeed the Ministry, had searched every feasible inch of the world looking for McGonagall; she was the leader of the light, a beacon of hope, the greatest witch of her age and the Hogwarts Headmistress. But it all came to nothing.

Several days later her body had appeared on the grounds with no explanation as to where it had been. Several residents of Hogsmeade swore under oath that Minerva McGonagall had fled several night ago and that the Death Eaters had been clearly visible to all the villagers – there was no way she didn't know she was abandoning her school.

The Ministry hearing had denounced her a traitor, she had left her colleagues without any warning that they were about to be attacked and the wards, which answered to only the Headmistress, had fallen. She had been buried days after that without preamble. The Order, never having much common sense had believed it willingly and only a few had attended the pauper's funeral. The following day the grave was found disturbed but it was not questioned, tidied up and left for good.

Rita, however, never could leave anything and she had a lasting respect and fondness for Minerva from her own tenure at Hogwarts. Her investigations had not been particularly insightful at first as not one of the damned Order had been forthcoming about their attitude towards Minerva but eventually Nymphadora Tonks had dragged Rita to one side when she had accosted the Auror and her husband in the street one day. Lupin, without hesitation, turned around and guarded the alley that Tonks and Rita were hidden in. It was then that it occurred to Rita that they had planned this. Although she was unsure whether they were going to be helpful or kill her.

"Listen, as much as we don't want you prying into the Order's business keep doing it. There's something really, really _wrong _about it all. First Hermione, then McGonagall. They'd never betray anybody and they'd put up struggles so it doesn't make sense."

"I'm trying but there's nothing to go on!"

"Look, I didn't want to say this in case it isn't true…but the body, and this sounds really stupid, but her glasses were gone and her hair was down and…she…"

"Go on."

"Smelt of sherry. And McGonagall never did like sherry, she told Remus once."

At the time this had meant nothing to Rita and she was incredibly confused for days before it clicked what the smell meant. During her time at Hogwarts Professor Trelawney had been a teacher, in the following years she had left and then returned after giving the infamous prophecy. And Rita remembered that when Trelawney had had a bad day, or really when she felt like it, she would indulge in sherry. But how the hell had that smell got on Minerva's body once he was dead? It was very unlikely that upon discovering the Diviner was dead Minerva would help herself to the remainder of her sherry bottles before being killed, apparently without a struggle.

For days on end Rita had pondered over the meaning and had even visited the small grave, which she realised, with a sickened feeling, wasn't even marked. And it had most definitely been disturbed. Something deep in Rita's instinctive senses told her that there was something very wrong with the grave as it was and, although the thought made her feel physically sick, she knew she would have to dig down there herself before she found out.

She didn't get around to it. By the time she had plucked up the required courage the Death Eaters had swarmed into her house and the world turned to black. When she had eventually awoke it had been to see Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy baring down on her seeming excited and pissed off, respectively, as to her presence in their house. Bellatrix had been skulking around in a corner but hadn't come forward to face the journalist.

Lucius had demanded (albeit in a very welcoming drawl) that she help them by publishing the propaganda they shoved into her hand under her own name to give it some legitimacy (Narcissa had snorted uncharacteristically at this).

Rita knew she was considered many things. A liar, a cheat, a fraud and so on and so forth but she knew without question there was one thing she was most definitely not. A coward.

Deciding that Lucius was still too damn familiar to fight against and so she had spat in Narcissa face and been quite satisfied when the white-blonde witch had nearly squealed. The slap that it her face was really worth it, especially as Lucius still had that look of eternal bemusement he had whenever Rita was present. The glee in her was quickly taken away when Narcissa grabbed a nearby ornament and hit Rita across the face with it twice.

She heard the scuffle between husband and wife as he pried it from her hands and Narcissa had screamed and wailed and Rita had eventually been dragged down into the cellar and shoved forcibly into a room, Lucius' voice carrying after her.

"You'll come around Rita. I know you too well. You'll do it if you're made to suffer."

"I tell you I won't do it! You can keep me in here as long as you like I won't get involved you miserable bastard!"

And the door slammed in her face as she shouted back. She felt movement behind her and an old and familiar smell of ink hit her. Only one person had ever smelt like that constantly apart from herself.

Hermione Granger's voice had roused her and she knew she had been right all along.

Hours later after she had explained her side of the story she had listened to Hermione's story and then, with much more interest, Minerva's.

"It was Sybill. She's a Death Eater."

With that crucial fact they had pieced together the rest. Minerva had been take. Sybill had faked her own death and then staged Minerva's by Polyjuicing herself.

_The damn sherry._

The body had been buried and hours later the other Death Eaters had dug up their comrade. A rather absurd and excessive way to stage a death in Rita and Hermione's opinions (this would be the first thing of many they agreed upon) but Minerva said wistfully that it was so nonsensical and stupid that it reeked of Sybill's planning.

The three of them never spoke of Sybill Trelawney again. Or her damn sherry bottles.


End file.
